


Alternatives

by cher



Category: A Land Fit for Heroes - Richard Morgan
Genre: Grey Places, Light exhibitionist kink, M/M, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex with Magical Copies, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 14:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cher/pseuds/cher
Summary: The night Seethlaw and Ringil find Risgillen and the rest of the Illwrack band, Seethlaw has some energy to burn. And he knows how to make the Grey Places march to his tune.





	Alternatives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruis/gifts).

Ringil bedded down alone that night. He wasn't sorry; looking at the new dwenda clustering around Seethlaw was like having a sudden bucket of cold piss thrown over him. Easy enough to get used to someone when they'd kidnapped you and dragged you around a dreamscape for fuck knows how long, mind-fucked half the time as well. Easy enough to get familiar with a cock you'd come to know better than most in your lifetime. 

See them back in their element and the real man comes out to play. Ringil had watched the world warp around them, the casual cruelties the newcomers spoke of. Not so much worse than any troops on campaign, perhaps, but there was something harder to swallow about the dwenda. Too alien, too far beyond the power of even good fighting men, perhaps. They moved all around the camp now, unsettling presences that didn't preciscely make noise as they went. They set all Ringil's battle senses reeling anyhow.  


So Seethlaw was their spy, embedded and gone half-native. How much more alien would the rest of them be? 

He went grudgingly to sleep, watched by the jealous sister and trusting to Seethlaw's possessiveness to keep the rest of them off of him. He wished he had the Ravensfriend close to hand. Any weapons at all, come to it.

The memory of Seethlaw's howling call followed him down into his dreams. 

_ 

The light hadn't changed when he woke, grabbing for the dragontooth dagger that wasn't there. His fingers closed around a piece of driftwood instead, which would do just fine for putting out an eye if he had to. Strange it should be under his balled up cloak, just where his dagger would be. 

"Peace, Gil," Seethlaw said, soft and low and entirely too close to his back. 

Ringil snorted, let go of his makeshift weapon. "Got told off by your sister, felt like you had to give her a big fuck you and indulge your kink for human arse?" 

The dwenda's long fingers closed over Ringil's hip. "A full camp is no reason not to sate ourselves, and the next march is long. Do not tell me that you object." 

There could have been a note of threat in the statement. There didn't seem to be, particularly. 

"Silence isn't a strong point of mine, you may have noticed." He pressed back into the heavy bulk of Seethlaw's body, grinding his arse against the iron hardness there. 

"You need not worry over that," Seethlaw said, low and rough, reaching for the fastenings on Gil's breeches. 

Ringil grunted, prick stiffening. "Got an exhibitionist kink there, then? Sure, go on, fuck me so your sister knows she can't tell you what to do."

"I will fuck you because I wish to do so," he said, flat and hard and fooling no one. "And you will enjoy the way I stop your mouth."

"Oh, will I," he snarled back, his temper nettled. He thought the motherfucker was over this dread eldritch prince play, but that was what happened when a captain's troop was nearby, wasn't it. They came over all high and mighty; he'd done it himself a time or two. Fine, he could understand. It wasn't as if he objected terribly to being used hard and possibly publically. It wouldn't be the first time. 

He'd kill them all soon enough anyway. 

"You'll be ecstatic," Seethlaw breathed, right into Ringil's ear as he helped him roll onto his hands and knees. "You see, I've spent all night imagining how I will do this. The... _alternatives_."

Which sounded like nothing but some lead-up dirty talk, until the world rippled in a way that had become familiar, and a second Seethlaw knelt at his head, unlacing its flies. Well. 

"Huh. Can it touch me, then? Didn't think these things could."

"They can," said Seethlaw, drawing down Ringil's breeches and sliding them off and away. No hobbled fuck for him; he always wanted Ringil's legs good and spread. Fine, he could fight bare arse naked if it came to that. "They can if I push them."

"So that's your plan, is it, screw me both ends at once?" He'd meant it to sound like a criticism, worth a jab for the high-handedness of it, but his prick was throbbing between his thighs at the idea. Seethlaw wrapped his hand around him and squeezed, rough and quick, just to show him he knew. 

"I said I would stop your mouth, and so I will," he said, implacable. "Now hush, this will take some power of concentration."

_Concentration__, his arse, _and yes, that was exactly it_. _Shit. It galled him to roll over for it so easily but the bastard had the measure of him by now. Had had it since they first crossed swords, hadn't he. 

The phantom limed in blue cupped his face then, pulled its cock from its breeches and offered it up whole for Ringil's mouth. It was an imagining, a memory, and for a moment Ringil spared a thought for the accuracy, the terrifying powers of prediction to know just where Ringil would be, where he would put his mouth. Then he was being tugged down into it, the push of a cock that wasn't quite real at his lips, the slickened press of fingers that definitely were at his arsehole. 

A hand that was somehow too substantial, denser than life, cupped on the back of his head, pulling him forward onto the memory of a hard prick. It felt plenty real in his throat, stretched him out in all the right ways, all the familiar ways. Didn't taste quite the same but the phantom Seethlaw's manner was familiar, just like the real one. Pushy, liked a bit of rough. Tugged on his hair while the warmer, realer version parted his arse cheeks and grunted in satisfaction at what he saw. 

Ringil widened his knees, pushed his arse up, impatient for it. If he could have spoken, he'd have bitched Seethlaw out for stalling. As it was his mouth was full of cock and he could only wait. Oh well, he'd probably want to look too, if he had a way to make a man take his own cock twice at the same time. He put some more eagerness into his cocksucking. Could the phantom Seethlaw come, or would it just fuck his throat until Seethlaw was ready for him to have use of his own mouth again?

At last, he felt the blunt head of the dwenda's cock rub against him, sliding up and over his hole. Seethlaw was teasing himself. It nearly drove Ringil mad, which was probably the point. Fed the fucker's ego when Ringil got desperate to take his cock. It wasn't even the most spectacular cock he'd ever had, for all that, but by Hoiran's balls did he fuck well when he finally bloody got to it. 

He tried to pull back from the phantom's cock, give Seethlaw a hurry up, but the motherfucker had anticipated even that, and the hands in his hair clamped down harder. He swallowed fast around the extra inch of cock now pushing down his throat and found his nose pressed to the phantom's blue-limed stomach. Could almost be impressed with the bastard for that, which was of course what the dwenda had been waiting for all along. 

Seethlaw pressed his prick into him in one long, inexorable shove. Ringil would have gasped but for the cock in his throat. Shit but that burned, and it was exactly what he'd wanted. Needed, maybe. His belly filled with molten fire, it felt like, arsehole stuffed full of Seethlaw's iron bar of a cock and his throat just exactly the same. It was good that his mouth was full. He would definitely have made more noise than he guttural groan he'd produced, muffled around the cock in his mouth. Truth, he would have howled like a cat in heat. He felt like one. 

He couldn't get a hand down to his own prick, bouncing and leaking between his legs. Seethlaw wouldn't touch him until he was good and ready, liked it when Ringil shot like a woman, just from being fucked. The dwenda could fuck as long as he pleased, Ringil would say that for him, screw Ringil until he was good and ready to shoot. 

The phantom let him up, catch a breath or two, though how that was working was lost on Ringil. If the phantom wasn't actually there, why couldn't he just breathe anyway? It would be some bullshit about belief, most likely. He gasped while he could, regardless, and the blued-over Seethlaw tipped his head back so he'd look up at him, and smiled avidly as he fed his prick right back into Ringil's mouth. The change in angle shifted the cock in his arse as well, and the new position had his eyes near rolling back in his head. 

Holy fuck. Who'd have thought a rough camp in a dream fucked marshland would deliver up one of the best fucks of Ringil's well-versed life? 

"Like it, don't you?" Seethlaw said, less a question than a cocksure statement. "Reamed out both ends like this, taking me every way you can? You should remember this, Angel-eyes, no one else could do this to you." 

_Plenty of whorehouses could do close enough,_ he thought pissily, not feeling contrary enough to try to clear his mouth to argue. He did, after all, like it quite a bit. Whether that fact pissed him off was neither here nor there. _Bet Archeth knows a way. _ Good that he couldn't voice that thought, Seethlaw would leave him high and dry for it. 

He swallowed down hard, feeling near drunk on cock, and felt the way he was drooling around the phantom's relentless prick. He made a sound, lust and enough edge of humiliation to be worth a frisson or two. 

Fuck. The cock in his throat pulsed and shot, the phantom's hands locking his head tightly in place. He couldn't move an inch, held in place for it to come insubstantial spunk down his throat while the other dug his hands into his hips and screwed him like he'd been starving for it. Didn't see how, they fucked every night and sometimes during the day as well, before they'd met the others. Why not, when the marshes all looked the same. Couldn't march all the time. 

His arsehole felt used, edging into soreness where Seethlaw hammered into him, but the relentless pounding was satisfying something in him. His own prick ached, bouncing, felting so wet that the cool marsh air was almost a shock whenever the breeze stirred. 

The phantom moved off, faded out of his vision. Just the two of them now, and Ringil ought to have use of his voice back. He wasn't sure he could speak, decided he wouldn't try without serious provation. He wanted to float a bit. 

"You're taking this so well, Gil," Seethlaw told him, and Ringil grunted, braced himself for it, knew what was coming. The dwenda pulled out, flipped him onto his back and bent him nearly in half, prick pushing straight back up his hole. He made a punched-out sound, fisted his own prick in his hand and screwed himself down as best he could at this angle. 

Seethlaw braced over him, all the shining black blankness of his eyes staring straight down at him. It wouldn't be long now, and Ringil wanted to come last, wasn't fond of being fucked after he'd come himself. 

"Come on," he panted, "aren't you just dying to fill me up, use my human arse right in the middle of your camp? Don't you want them all to smell you on me?"

Seethlaw threw back his head and nearly put his sharp teeth straight through his lip, it looked like. He came, hard, hard enough that Ringil felt his cock pulse in his arse, and he pulled on his own prick until he shot as well. It was shattering. 

Seethlaw looked down at him, sated and smug, and pulled his dripping prick out, pushed Ringil down onto the bedroll. It grated on him to acknowledge it, but Ringil would sleep better now, with the bastard snoring at his back. 

They couldn't be far from Sherin now, and then Ringil could go back to being his own master again. Close as he got. 


End file.
